


pure bliss and divine serenity

by gentyjack



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley is a 6000 year old virgin, Experienced Aziraphale (Good Omens), Explicit Consent, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, Gratuitous Use of Book Quotes, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 06:37:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20041534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gentyjack/pseuds/gentyjack
Summary: “So you mean to say that you’ve never--” he cut himself off at the sight of Crowley’s red pigment spreading from his cheeks to his ears.“Well,” he drawled, holding out the “L” much longer than was necessary. “I”ve y’know….dabbled? By myself. But the idea of doing it with someone else? Never really came up.” Serpentine eyes locked with ocean blue ones. “You?”“Oh hundreds of times, my dear boy,” Aziraphale replied nonchalantly.“Ah,” a pause followed that somehow felt longer than the 6000 years they had known each other. “Congratulations?”





	pure bliss and divine serenity

**Author's Note:**

> nobody:  
me, a sex repulsed asexual: Hey Who Wants To See Me Write Smut

“Love knows no virtue, no merit; it loves and forgives and tolerates everything because it must. We are not guided by reason...” 

― **Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, Venus in Furs**

It was a lovely Sunday afternoon, all things considered. The sky was covered by a fresh blanket of clouds, the kind that signified it was going to be a temperate day and rain was not in the forecast. It was certainly the perfect day...to stay inside and do inventory for the shop. Aziraphale didn’t really need to meticulously count and categorize his large collection, but he was never one to turn down an opportunity to close shop (and this time with a valid excuse). 

Still, that didn’t stop a certain demon from opening the door with a snap of his fingers, when really he could have just knocked. “Aziraphale!” Crowley called from the front of the shop, in a rather needlessly dramatic fashion. If Aziraphale was a different man perhaps he would’ve rolled his eyes fondly, but instead settled for simply looking fond. He allowed himself to put away the book he was holding to grace Crowley with an answer. 

“I’m in the back room!” In a matter of seconds, his “adversary” (though he hardly called him that nowadays, now that everything was said and done) was at his side. Not much had changed in terms of his appearance since Armageddon’t, though slightly longer wisps of red near Crowley’s neck implied that he may have been growing out his hair again. Aziraphale couldn’t help but be overjoyed at the thought; Crowley had always looked his best when his hair was long. “Ah, there you are, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Asking that was more of a formality than anything. Crowley hardly needed a reason to drop by and visit in the past, and now even less so. The demon seemed to pick up on that as well, idly picking up a book and examining its outer cover. 

“What I can’t pop by and say hello?” he flipped through the pages, not paying any attention to the actual content. “You wound me, angel.” Aziraphale scoffed at the response; he was being quite melodramatic, though the angel wouldn’t have had him any other way. He playfully snatched the book away from Crowley’s hands with a succinct ‘thank you’ before placing the book back onto its proper place on the shelf. 

“Well, if you came here to wine and dine, I’m afraid I’m about to disappoint you. I need to be quite focused to get this done,” he sighed. He managed to get about two shelves done in the three hours he had been working, and “quite focused” wouldn’t exactly describe his process. Often, he would find himself re-discovering a book he had long thought was lost in his maze of a shop and he simply _ had _to leaf through it before it was lost to the ages again. That had happened...four, maybe five times? It was hard to keep count when one was so enraptured with their explorations. 

“Why don’t you just miracle everything organized?” Crowley couldn’t believe he was saying that himself. He had never seen Aziraphale’s bookshop as anything but “pleasantly cluttered” (calling it messy would earn him an indignant tut that he wasn’t prepared to deal with at the moment). Still, the inventory had to be done to keep the place from being seized upon by an up-and-coming real estate company catering to (and stealing from) bohemian millennials with hardly enough money for a Tube Pass. 

“Oh, you know that can lead to inaccuracies! Besides, there is nothing more rewarding than a bit of hard work,” Aziraphale gave a smile that could only be described as smug, to which Crowley could only eye with suspicion in turn. 

“You really just wanted an excuse to keep the shop closed for as long as you could, didn’t you? You right bastard.” An Aziraphale in a different time, hell perhaps even a few weeks prior, would’ve bristled at the comment. But this one kept his satisfied smile, even chose to add a cheeky shrug to it. “Right then,” Crowley picked another book off the table the angel was working at. “Would you at least let me help you? Must be rotten work all by yourself.” Oh, Crowley definitely _ did not like _ how the smile changed from smug to soft, why would you even insinuate otherwise. 

Aziraphale allowed himself to briefly tug at Crowley’s cheek, to which the demon quietly fumed at (though didn’t pull away). “Well, isn’t that _ kind _ of you?” he said with a lilt in his voice, emphasizing the word Crowley most _ definitely _did not want to hear. 

“Y’know just for that I’m putting all your Bibles into the fiction section.” 

Though Crowley was most likely onto something saying that the whole process would go faster after a few glasses of wine, the two deities remained disappointingly sober. And it wasn’t as if the whole thing wasn’t much more efficient and enjoyable with the two of them working together. They developed a sort of system: 

  1. Crowley would call out a book title, author, and number
  2. Aziraphale would write the number, name the genre, and tally it
  3. Crowley would put the book in its proper section. 

Most humans would be quite impressed with Aziraphale’s recollection of his store’s inventory and the idea that he could remember a book’s genre and contents by title alone. However, when book collecting was a bullet point on a rather short list of hobbies, one couldn’t help but take care to conscientiously commit every one of them to memory.

Crowley had just finished putting several Agatha Christie novels into a mystery section (most of them signed), when he picked up a book by an author he didn’t recognize...in a language he couldn’t read. “Uh….hold on this one I’m gonna butcher,” he squinted at the cover, trying to wrap his head around the foreign words. “Leopold…..Sah….chur…..Maz….otch.” 

“Sacher-Masoch,” Aziraphale corrected, pronouncing the “ch’s” in the name with an “h” sound. “Didn’t you learn German at one point?” 

“You must be confusing me for someone else, as it’s very bold of you to assume I would have any desire _ at all _ to learn German. Nasty language, German…..” Aziraphale poked his head around the bookshelf to give him A Look which could only be described as ‘don’t be rude, it’s a lovely language, and you never gave me the title get on with it.’ “It’s uh…Venus in Furs by author…whatever the hell just came out of your mouth.” 

Aziraphale hummed, and responded without hesitation. “Ah yes, I’m quite familiar with that one. That should go in the erotic section.” Without another word, he placed a tally mark by that specific genre. 

“Right then.” A saunter. A pause. A backtrack. A pair of sunglasses pressed to the tip of a nose so eyes could scrutinize properly. “I’m sorry the _ what _ section?” He must have heard the angel wrong. A being of heaven _ surely _didn’t have a--

“The erotic section. The far bookshelf on the right. Put it next to Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure if you would, please.” All of this was said as he was casually tallying up numbers, not an ounce of embarrassment in his voice. Crowley gaped at him still. 

“I’m sorry..._ what _???” He repeated himself. Aziraphale sighed, removing his small reading glasses (which he didn’t need, Crowley would add, but thought himself quite nifty with them on), and glancing indifferently at the demon dissecting his response. 

“Really now there’s no need for that look, don’t be puritan. I managed to collect quite the concoction of erotica over the years...some of them, heaven forbid, were even written well. Most are needlessly violent and certainly need to learn a thing or two about consent, however--” he trailed off, noticing Crowley’s facial expression changed. Was that a dusting of pink on his cheeks? “Honestly Crowley, you mustn’t be so put off. I’m sure there’s nothing in those books that you’re not already familiar with.” The pink darkened to red. 

“Well I uh….hmm….nggk…..” Crowley stammered, turning his face slightly to not meet the angel’s gaze. 

Aziraphale, gave him a pointed stare, somewhat perplexed by Crowley’s hesitation. Perhaps it was misinformation heard through heaven’s grapevines, but he had always assumed that sex was always at-the-ready in a demon’s personal arsonel of temptations. Not that the angel thought that there was really anything wrong with it in the first place (humans have been known to be quite prudish as the centuries go by), though according to the “rules” lust was technically a deadly sin and thus demons had to take advantage of it as such. He supposed that _ anything _in excess could be considered sinful, but he never understood both angels’ and humans’ inherent need to deprive themselves of things they enjoyed. 

“So you mean to say that you’ve never--” he cut himself off at the sight of Crowley’s red pigment spreading from his cheeks to his ears. 

“Well,” he drawled, holding out the “L” much longer than was necessary. “I”ve y’know….dabbled? By myself. But the idea of doing it with someone else? Never really came up.” Serpentine eyes locked with ocean blue ones. “You?” 

“Oh hundreds of times, my dear boy,” Aziraphale replied nonchalantly. 

“Ah,” a pause followed that somehow felt longer than the 6000 years they had known each other. “Congratulations?” Aziraphale almost (almost) bit down a laugh at that. 

“Oh well, thank you! I could even give you a few of their names,” he said in between slight gasps of air, which themselves were in between fits of giggles. 

“Yeah, yeah you don’t need to beguile me with stories of your wanton sexcapades, angel,” Crowley at this point was looking anywhere _ but _ at the angel right in front of him. It’s not that he didn’t exactly want to hear the “shocking details” of Aziraphale’s past encounters. Perhaps a human with a much shorter life expectancy would have been jealous, but Crowley was far from it. He was _ impressed _. In fact, it was mostly his embarrassment at his own inexperience that prevented him from dropping everything for the next month to hear about all of them. 

Book by Sacher-Masoch (Crowley made sure to overemphasize the h’s in his head as his own personal revenge, regardless of whether or not Aziraphale could hear his thoughts or not) long forgotten on a table near a section it didn’t belong in, Aziraphale eyed the rather flustered demon before him. “So you really haven’t copulated before?” Crowley sniggered a bit at the old-fashioned term, but his slight mortification remained. 

“No, Aziraphale, I have not _ copulated. _Neither have I fornicated, been carnal with another, coupled, or bedded someone.” The huff from the angel signified that his teasing was working, but in the end who was he really teasing? “You have that one on me, angel. You’ve fucked far more than me.” He half expected a scandalized gasp at his profanity, yet Aziraphale’s strong gaze held firm. There was a lot he didn’t know about his best friend. 

“Well you certainly must have at least _ kissed _someone!” Crowley couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that. 

“Of course I have, Aziraphale, for Sat--for somebody’s sake! You’re acting like I’m some ‘pure’ maiden at the risk of being deflowered.” He threw his arms in the air for emphasis. “Yes, I have kissed before, and yes...I’m rather skilled at it if I do say so myself.” 

“Are you now? Then I daresay we are in the same boat on that front, Crowley.” 

“Yeah I suppose we are.” 

Another pause. 

Crowley felt suddenly very aware of everything around him. The way his breath stuttered in the silence. The stillness of the air around them. The soft plumpness of Aziraphale’s lips. The slight glimpse of tongue as the angel involuntarily licked them. The unusual close proximity their faces were now. “A-Aziraphale…” he mumbled, short of breath, but did not attempt to pull away. In fact, it was Aziraphale who hesitated, though his eyes were still fixated on Crowley’s mouth. 

“Is this…what I mean to say is...is it alright if I--?” Crowley could hardly breathe out a yes before he closed the distance between them. In terms of kisses, the best word one could use to describe it would be ‘okay.’ At least it would be the perfect word if one wasn’t a six thousand year old minor deity with the sudden express permission to kiss someone you’ve held a fondness for as long as the two of you have been on this earth, and with it the hesitation and fear that one wrong move would send the other running and you would never have this chance again. So they settled for ‘okay,’ letting the touch of lips be chaste, the press of the tips of their noses slightly uncomfortable, sunglass lenses digging into cheekbones. And in a moment, or perhaps several days, it was over. 

They rested their foreheads together after pulling apart, Aziraphale’s eyes lidded while Crowley’s remained steadfastly closed. Both of them felt a small buzzing feeling where there had once been contact, as well as a tendril of hot breath coming from the other. Aziraphale was the first to break the comfortable, yet still tense silence. “Right um...heh,” he let out a huff of air, nervously laughing as he did so. “That was all well and good but....would you mind if I were to give you some suggestions?” Crowley pulled his head away and blinked at him incredulously. However, he threw his hands up into a noncommittal shrug which could (and should) be interpreted as a yes. 

“Right!” He cleared his throat. “First off, I don’t believe you need these for this.” His hands reached for the sunglasses on the other man’s face, and Crowley couldn’t help but flinch away from the intimacy of it all. Aziraphale lowered his hand slightly, giving him the space he needed. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do. But know I’m not afraid of them. You have beautiful eyes, dear.” 

Crowley shuddered, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His hand shakily moved up, as if it was going to take off the sunglasses itself. But instead it reached for Aziraphale’s outstretched hand, guiding it to the tinted window with which he could see the world but the world couldn’t see him. Fingertips brushed the inside of lenses, not noticing or caring about the smudges that would surely come of that, and pulled. Crowley’s eyes fluttered closed as he felt the temples graze the sides of his face, only opening once more when he could no longer feel their presence. Effervescent yellow shone brightly, and Aziraphale felt his own eyes crinkle at the sight. He was so dreadfully fond. 

“There we are, that’s better already,” he remarked, using one hand to lay the glasses down on the table with the long forgotten books, the other to cup at the demon’s cheek. “Now just…” He bit his lip as his hand tilted Crowley’s face slightly to the left. “Yes, that should do nicely.” Aziraphale bent his head to his own left and closed the gap once more. 

This...this was more than okay. 

They fit together perfectly, no bashing of noses or other such detriments. Just an angel and demon, lips molded to each other as if they were made for one another. Aziraphale’s hand remained cupped to Crowley’s cheek, while Crowley finally let his own arms stop dangling uselessly long enough to wrap around Aziraphale’s waist and pull him closer. This only caused the kiss to deepen, and Aziraphale laughed into Crowley’s mouth. “Yes, darling, just like that,” the angel spoke in such a way that his lips would brush Crowley’s at every syllable. Crowley sighed, rather unsteady. _ Darling. _He could get used to hearing that. 

Aziraphale ran a teasing tongue along Crowley’s bottom lip, though he didn’t go further. He was asking permission, noting any hesitation or discomfort in the demon’s body language. There was none to be found; in fact Crowley encouraged him, moaning a deep hum that started at the back of his throat and somehow ended up at the back of Aziraphale’s. The parting of Crowley’s lips caused their hot breath to mingle, the air reminding him ever so slightly of the milk tea Aziraphale was letting cool on his work table. 

The angel’s hands wandered, one hand grasping at a neck and the other at the top of a head, fingers beginning to lace into locks of fiery red hair. Crowley’s hair had always been so soft, so heavenly to run his hands through, even if he scarcely had the opportunity to in the past. He allowed himself a light tug, which caused the demon to gasp. “A-Aziraphale….” But soon his lips were upon him again, making up for millennia of lost time. 

Aziraphale shifted his position slightly, placing a leg in between Crowley’s thighs. The movement pushed their bodies even closer together, and the slightest bit of friction sent a wave of _ something _through Crowley’s stomach. “A-ahh!” he couldn’t help from calling out and pulling away a bit, the blush returning to his cheeks with a vengeance. He wasn’t expecting his body to react so strongly, and frankly it was a little humiliating. Aziraphale eyed him with concern. 

“Oh, my dear, are you alright? That wasn’t too much, was it?” The juxtaposition between Aziraphale’s sweet worry for him and his ruffled appearance was almost too much to bear. Here was the angel asking about his well being, while having the audacity of looking at him with wrinkled clothes and kiss-swollen lips. The nerve of him. 

“Y-yeah,” Crowley managed to get out, breathless. “I...heh....that was different.” Aziraphale’s head tilted to the side in a most adorable state of confusion. Crowley was quick to explain himself. “B-but! A good...different? The kind of different...I wouldn’t mind experiencing again.” 

“Are you certain, Crowley?” he asked. “The last thing I want to do is force you into something you’re not comfortable doing.” Aziraphale interweaved their fingers together. “Say the word, and this won’t go any further.” Crowley squeezed the angel’s hand in turn. 

“I know, angel,” he smiled softly. “But really, I wouldn’t mind.” He paused once more, biting his lip and looking off to the side. “In fact I would _ really _ like it if you would do that...again... _ please. _” It wasn’t often that the demon said ‘please’ at all, it was barely a word in his extensive vocabulary. Aziraphale leaned up to place a small kiss on the corner of Crowley’s mouth. 

“Well, since you asked so _ nicely. _” His lips trailed downward, placing soft kisses on Crowley’s cheek and jawline. They came to rest on a particularly sensitive spot on his neck, taking the time to lightly suck at the skin and feel the hastening pulse underneath. As two of them shifted back into their previous position, Crowley couldn’t help but lightly buck his hips on to Aziraphale’s thigh. “My, my, aren’t we quite eager,” the angel teased, palming a hand onto Crowley’s tight jeans hiding his rapidly hardening cock. 

Another loud gasp of air escaped him, as he twitched into Aziraphale’s hand. He had touched himself before, but it had not felt like this, never felt like _ this _. The combination of Aziraphale’s soft plump lips peppering kiss after kiss with his firm hand teasing his own unfortunately still clothed member was almost too much to bare. “I-if you don’t actually touch me right now, I might actually discorporate on the spot.” 

“I suggest we get a wiggle-on upstairs then.” Crowley inwardly groaned at the erection-killing “wiggle-on” and outwardly groaned at the idea of having to leave this position for even a moment to take the time to get to the second floor flat. His shaking fingers snapped, and it was as if they were in Aziraphale’s rarely used bedroom the whole of the afternoon. “Was that absolutely necessary?” Aziraphale tsked. 

“Absolutely,” Crowley replied as he set to work removing the first of his best friend’s many layers. The jacket was simple, but the waistcoat was another story completely. So many buttons, most of them small and worn. Not to mention that underneath that was a button-up shirt that he would have to take care of, and perhaps then another undershirt, and really this was getting ridiculous why did the angel have to wear so many clothes! His hand reached up to snap again, but a much calmer hand stopped it from doing so. 

“None of that, dear, we should get this done properly.” Aziraphale reassured, helping Crowley in undoing the buttons of his precious waistcoat. He folded it up before placing it gently on an armchair (he’s had it for almost 200 years, he was not about to throw it around willy nilly), before getting to work on his bow tie. Crowley stared at this state of partial undress, and it took almost all his resolve to not bash their lips together again. There was something so wholly intimate about the image, as if Aziraphale removing layer after layer was also removing any ounce of hesitancy he still had left in him. Any ties to what they left behind that fateful day were forgotten in this moment. They truly were now on their own side. 

Crowley was never one to express his feelings with words, they didn’t come easily to him. He wasn’t sure if it was a product of his fall and having an image to maintain, or if it was perhaps a trait of his all along. So he showed it in other ways; and here he showed it in wrapping his arms around the angel and burying his face into the crook of his neck. 

“I thought you said you were going to discorporate on the spot.” Aziraphale felt a muffled “mmph” against his collarbone. “Not that this isn’t very pleasant, but I was in the middle of something.” Another “mmph” before Crowley slowly pulls away, a pout evident on his lips. “There’s a love,” Aziraphale muttered, placing a chaste peck onto Crowley’s cheek before going back to his buttons. 

Meanwhile, the Serpent of Eden stood by idly, hands in pockets, occasionally shifting to ease the uncomfortable feeling of his hardness rubbing against the inseam of his pants. After folding the last of his layers (a plain white undershirt), Aziraphale eyed him quizically. 

“Aren’t you going to do the same?” he asked. Crowley’s mouth opened and closed for a couple of seconds, as if uncertain what he was supposed to say to that. A few syllables came through with the gaping, some of them perhaps could have even been words. 

“Well I uh,” he started, continuing to add voiced nonsense in between. “I was sort of hoping that you would--” He couldn’t keep going. Staring at the ceiling, he growled in frustration at his inability to express himself. Though his gaze shifted back when he felt Aziraphale making a move to remove his dark jacket, revealing a bit more of the demon’s collarbone in the process. Aziraphale’s lips ghosted over the exposed skin. 

“Of course, my dear boy.” It was rather sweet to think that this wiley and wicked serpent would want to be doted on like this. He focused on every button as if it were a precious gem, dragging out the act for as long as possible before placing another kiss on newly uncovered skin. “You’re absolutely gorgeous...I cannot wait to love every inch of you.” 

If Crowley was hard before, he was insufferably so now. If he had any contact whatsoever with Hell anymore, he could imagine Hastur and Dagon mocking him for getting turned on over such a gentle and, dare he say it, loving act. A normal man perhaps would’ve been impatient with this, but Crowley savored every minute, every second of it. He gripped the sides of Aziraphale’s hips, thumbs lightly digging into skin and forcing a giggle out of him. The angel was so delightfully rotund and soft to the touch. 

Looking at the two of them, their body types couldn’t have been more different, and the differences were made much more apparent by the showing of bare skin. Where Aziraphale was round and supple, Crowley was bony and angular. Bits of belly would roll over the waistline of Aziraphale’s trousers, while Crowley’s rib bones were practically visible to the naked eye. But to the other they were perfect; utterly, beautifully, ineffably perfect. 

After what felt like glorious eons, steady fingers undid a serpentine belt, pulling it away at a snail’s pace. Slow enough that Crowley could feel it leave every belt loop. One, two, three, four, five; and it was gone. Fabric rustled, a zipping sound rang out, and soon Crowley’s trousers were being pulled steadily down. The demon suppressed a groan at how good it felt already for his cock to be free of them. One of Aziraphale’s stable hands tugged at the waistband of his pants, the other eased into them to wrap around him. 

The effect was instantaneous, and Crowley threw his head back with a loud groan. Where Crowley’s own hands were calloused from years of quite dirty work (namely gardening), Aziraphale’s were smooth. They treated his length as if it were a cherished book; something to be treated tenderly and savoring every page, every word.

“Yes, that’s it darling, let me hear you. You sound so lovely.” Hearing that made Crowley twitch. Really now, the angel was just being _ nice _to him why did that give him such a reaction? “You look so splendid right now.” Another involuntary twitch. Alright, he didn’t have time to unpack all of that right now. Instead he settled for lightly thrusting into the Principality’s hand, breath catching at the wonderful friction it created. 

“Aziraphale...p-please,” he managed to get out between hitches of pleasured nonsense syllables. “Please don’t stop.” Unfortunately that is precisely what the angel did, and Crowley stifled a whimper in between his firmly pressed lips. “Nnnn….why did you--” 

“Relax, my wiley serpent,” Aziraphale teased, sliding Crowley’s pants down while easing himself to his knees. “You know I would never leave you in such a state.” He let Crowley toe out of his underthings, not taking an eye off the other man’s member. “Beautiful,” he reveled at the sight. “Positively marvelous, dear.” The feeling of hot air against him made Crowley hiss through his teeth. 

It wasn’t long before that teasing tongue returned, running along his length from base to tip, before lips wrapped around it and lightly sucked. Crowley was practically wailing; he had never felt anything like _ this _before in his long life. In his hazy, pleasured state he half wondered why he had never sucked his own cock before, he was sure he was flexible enough to succeed. He put that thought in the back of his mind to store for a later time. 

Though he knew that it would never feel as good, as _ right _, as this. Aziraphale’s head bobbing back and forth shallowly, his hand making up the difference he couldn’t reach. Crowley grasped tendrils of blond hair, squeezing hard to encourage him forward. Each time Aziraphale would pause for some extra air, his mouth would leave the tip of Crowley’s cock with a loud popping noise which sent the demon into near hysterics. “Jesus Christ, angel…” The angel let out an amused laugh, but with his lips otherwise occupied it instead sounded like a low hum, sending vibrations that ran through the entirety of Crowley’s body and coming to rest in a pool near his belly. 

Oh. Oh no. 

“W-wait wait wait…!” He exclaimed, pushing Aziraphale’s forehead away from him. He didn’t want to shove him, but there was no way he was going to last much longer at this rate. Groaning as Aziraphale eased off of him, he hissed in frustration at how sensitive he was. “S-sorry just…” What could he say? That he was a sucker that could only endure five measly minutes? His pride simply wouldn’t allow him to say that. 

Still, the concerned look that Aziraphale gave him was enough for him to want to confess. “I’m sorry, Crowley, was that too much? I know you’ve never experienced something like this before, and I want to make sure it’s a pleasant experience for you and--” 

“No, it’s not that,” Crowley interrupted Aziraphale’s babbling. “It’s just if you keep going I might…y’know…” His lack of specification was met with raised eyebrows. Surely the angel wasn’t going to make him outright say it, right? He may have been more experienced (much more experienced), but the thought of his reaction to that one word gave Crowley pause. 

So he settled for making a gesture. A vague gesture that started with closed fists, and then spread fingers and shaking palms. He was loathe to admit a little “boosh” sound came out of his mouth as well. 

A blink. Two blinks. A snort. 

Uncontrollable laughter. 

If Crowley could’ve turned into a snake at that moment and crawled under the nearest boudoir, he would’ve. 

“Yes, yes, laugh it up, have the whole bloody city hear you.” 

“Y-you mean to say,” Aziraphale wheezed in between chortles. “That if I kept going, you would have co--” 

“_ Please _don’t say it out loud.” 

So of course the angel said it with emphasis. “_ Come. _” The “m” was drawn out for several seconds, and the word ended with a rather unnecessary ‘uh’ noise. Crowley pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

“_ Yes _ , okay? I would’ve done... _ that _ . It’s fine, it’s _ tickety-boo _, I’ve never done this with another persssson, it’sssss hilariousssss.” He started hissing as he continued; signifying that he was nervous, stressed, or mortified (perhaps a combination of all three). Aziraphale’s laughter stopped immediately, as he gently eased Crowley’s hands off of his face. 

“Dear, I most definitely was not laughing because of that. I _ was _laughing at the fact that you think me so prude that a simple word would have me in hysterics.” 

“Well you kind of were--” 

“You know what I meant, Crowley.” He intended for that to sound annoyed, but as usual it only sounded fond. “I promised you that I would never make you do something you didn’t want to do, and I intend to keep that promise.” He cupped the demon’s cheeks, and planted a chaste kiss to the tip of his nose. “Tell me what you want, and I am more than willing to provide.” 

Crowley couldn’t help the sniff that broke free of him, though he quickly composed himself. Sputtering about and crying certainly wouldn’t help the situation in any way, shape, or form. “Could we just...lie down and,” he gulped. “Touch each other? I don’t think I’m ready for…” Another vague gesture, this one far too complicated to describe with words. “The other thing yet, if that’s alright with you.” 

Aziraphale rubbed his thumbs up and down Crowley’s cheekbones. “Of course, darling, anything you wish. Nothing further until you’re good and ready for it.” Crowley’s breath shuddered. His angel (_ his _ angel, he could say that now) was so wonderfully _ good _to him and he still wasn’t sure what he did to deserve it. 

After removing the clothes from his bottom half (and meticulously folding them, thank you very much), Aziraphale laced their fingers together once more and led Crowley to a rarely used bed. It was mostly there as a formality, to make the flat look to humans as if it were lived in. Strange as it was certainly “lived in,” just not “slept in,” except for the occasional exhausted snake that would sneak a nap in when the store was open. 

Now that cotton sheets were being pulled away from their proper place, this bed could add a whole new definition of “slept in” by the end of the night. As Crowley settled himself underneath the covers, Aziraphale eyed him up and down tutting. “Well I suppose I rather made a mess of things.” Confused yellow eyes blinked. 

“Wha?” Eloquent, he thought to himself. 

“Well I daresay you’re quite flaccid.” Aziraphale gestured to Crowley’s now softened cock with a purse of his lips. 

“Ah.” _ Super _eloquent. To be frank, he hadn’t even noticed. A lot had happened within the span of a few minutes, some of which included emotional baggage that Crowley would rather leave on the rotating claim for just a bit longer. 

“No matter,” Aziraphale purred into his ear, pulling their bodies closer together. “Nothing I can’t fix.” Was it pathetic that Crowley could already feel himself getting hard at that comment alone? Probably. Did he care? Absolutely not. 

The angel got to work on kissing his beloved companion senseless once more, fingertips brushing the underside of a rapidly hardening length. Crowley’s hips bucked into him, rubbing his cock against Aziraphale’s, which earned him a blissful moan from the angel’s lips. He continued the movement, egged on by his companion’s reactions, wanting him to feel as good as he himself was feeling. 

“Yes, dear, precisely. You’re doing so good.” _ Good good good, _the word swirled around Crowley’s head. He should’ve bristled at the word, been angry hearing it, but instead he wanted to hear it again, and again, and again. 

Aziraphale took his own member into his hand, placing next to Crowley’s, and began to stroke the both of them together. The combined friction of their cocks rubbing, and Azirapale’s slick hand caressing him felt...for lack of a better word, _ heavenly _. “A-Angel…..angel please….” He was gasping, feeling that all too familiar pit in his stomach from earlier. No he shouldn’t, not now, he was fine with being edged, so long as this feeling could last forever. 

Aziraphale could somehow sense Crowley’s inner conflict, and started stroking him in earnest. “It’s alright, Crowley, you can let go.” The demon whimpered into his best friend’s shoulder. “Come for me, darling.” The fight left him, and he was sent spiraling over the edge. 

Crowley cried out, not particularly caring if the whole of Soho could hear him, and rode out his orgasm into Aziraphale’s steady hand. “Angel...angel...angel,” he repeated. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t called Aziraphale angel before, hundreds of times. But this time was different. The name was voiced with such reverence and _ love _while Crowley writhed under his gentle touch. There was never a sight more beautiful than this. 

Panting from the wave of pleasure that thoroughly crashed into him, Crowley did not have the energy to miracle away the mess. He turned himself to lie on his back and held a hand to his rapidly breathing heart, trying to catch his breath. Side eyeing his friend, his companion, his love...he was disappointed in himself to see that Aziraphale was not quite finished. “Zzzzira….” he was too spent to even attempt the angel’s doozy of a name. “Lemme….” He attempted to lift an exhausted arm, but a firm hand held it down. 

“Rest now,” Aziraphale reassured. “There’s always next time.” The hand moved to card fingers through sweat-soaked hair, while the other got to work on stroking himself. He thought of next time, bodies pressed together as they were before. He thought of a time after that, where perhaps Crowley would let his mouth around his cock again. He thought of a time after that, where he was ready to go further and allow Aziraphale inside him. He thought of the idea that that might never happen, but it was alright, it was perfectly alright to go slow, just so long as Crowley would say the word “angel” again with that admiration in his voice and… 

He bit his lip and sighed deeply as he came, curling his toes at the familiar feeling of satisfaction it brought. It didn’t take him long to finish, and he snapped his fingers to rid the mess from both of them. Perhaps another time they would make the effort to clean themselves up manually, but he wasn’t sure that Crowley could quite manage that at this moment. 

The other man’s arms snaked around him, head resting in the crook between his arm and chest. “Mmmsorry,” Crowley apologized. Hardly a first, but definitely a rarity. 

“Whatever for?”   
  
“F’r not…..” He attempted to make another vague gesture, but in his exhaustion he just waved his hand around as if he was trying to wring water off of it. 

“Hush now,” Aziraphale placed his lips against the top of the demon’s head. “Why don’t you take a quick nap? I’m sure that’s just what you need.” 

“Mmmkay,” Crowley mumbled, not choosing to argue with him for once. Within moments his breath steadied and he curled into Aziraphale’s warmth.The Principality was grateful that he never had any need to sleep. 

This was a sight he could watch all day. 

When Crowley woke up alone several hours later, a part of him wondered if he had dreamt up the entire thing. After all, it wouldn’t have been the first time, though he would never admit it to the angel. The only tell signs that what had happened had been real were: 

  1. He was not in his own flat. Though, he did like to occasionally nap at the bookshop, there was something missing from that particular scenario which was 
  2. His sunglasses were not on the bedside table. He had become slightly more comfortable with them off around Aziraphale, but they were never too far away from him in case he needed them. But these two observations paled to the third which was 
  3. He was lying in a rarely used bed with only a thin sheet covered on him for modesty. 

A soft smile graced his lips. It had been real. He bared it all (quite literally), and showed a love that he thought was long forbidden. And his long-time companion had reciprocated. A dream was nothing in comparison to this pure bliss and divine serenity. 

Easing himself up, he examined the room for his clothes, laughing lightly as he saw that they were folded nicely on the velvet armchair. _ Typical Aziraphale, _he thought. He shrugged on his shirt and slipped into his jeans, deciding to forego the jacket and tie for now. It wasn’t as if he was really in the mood to go out anyway. 

Coming down the stairs, he noticed that Aziraphale was working at his desk again, unneeded reading glasses fixed on his face once more. After finishing his trek to the ground floor, Crowley interrupted his angel’s concentration with a kiss to his temple. “Hard at work again, I see.” 

“Ah, good evening to you!” Aziraphale chuckled, repaying Crowley with kiss to the cheek. Yes, this was...definitely something the both of them could get used to. “Yes, unfortunately. No rest for the…” he paused, not knowing how to end the phrase. Wicked still didn’t exactly describe him, but again neither did the word good. “Well, no rest for _ me, _it would seem. Not that I didn’t enjoy our little rendezvous earlier.” That comment got the demon to flush slightly, which he considered a minor victory. “However, I’m afraid I’m now quite behind. I might have to keep the shop closed for another week at this rate.” 

Crowley gave Aziraphale an overexaggerated pout, trying to mirror his facial expression to the tone the angel was speaking in. “Oh no whatever will you do if no one comes in here to buy your books,” he teased, voice dripping with sarcasm. That earned him an “irritated” (never irritated, always fond) scoff and a book practically shoved into his chest. 

“If you have time to mock me, then you have time to sort. Put this one into the fantasy section, if you would please, by the Tolkeins. And make haste, we’re off schedule.” 

“Yes _ dear _ ,” Crowley tried to say that sarcastically again, but the idea of calling Aziraphale dear only made his voice more affectionate. He sauntered to the bookshelf in question and did exactly what he was told, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction from it (he _ really _did not have time to unpack all of that). 

Returning from his short errand, Crowley leaned on the work desk. As long as he wasn’t unnecessarily covering up what Aziraphale was working on, he didn’t seem to mind. While shifting, a corner of a book dug into his thigh. Quickly glancing at the title, a smile graced his lips: Venus in Furs. He picked up the book that started it all and turned to a random page. “Venus in Furs has caught his soul in the red snares of hair,” he read, smirking. “Projecting there a little, aren’t we angel?” 

“Hardly,” Aziraphale chuckled. “It’s definitely a product of the times, but it does have some wonderful ideas about gender equality that I think you would enjoy.” Crowley raised an eyebrow at that. “The book is also where we get the word masochist from.” Crowley raised his _ other _eyebrow at that. 

“Huh.... you learn something new everyday,” he said, leafing through to another page. “The moral of the tale is: whoever allows himself to be whipped, deserves to be whipped.” A loud ‘hah’ escaped him. “You sure you’re not projecting at all?” Much like the other day, Aziraphale did not look embarrassed or put off, but rather very smug. 

“Oh darling, we both know that between the two of us I would be doing the whipping.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Listen..................it's about The Yearning 
> 
> hey I was so completely out of my element here but I think I did a pretty decent job for it being my first explicit fic n all lol 
> 
> -Venus in Furs is a real book (that I have never read) and apparently it is quite feminist for its time so hey the more you know. Also fun fact, there is a song by The Velvet Underground with the same title that I listened to occasionally when writing this  
-I consider the two of them as "sex positive asexuals." They have no need for it, but they enjoy it. Especially Az lmao  
-the "Crowley didn't want to say the come word so he makes a vague exploding gesture" scene was what inspired this thing and suddenly it was 15 pages lmao 
> 
> come find me on tumblr (columbiasgreatestminds) and say hello!


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